Ship to Wreck
by detective-smartypants
Summary: AU. She assumed that adoption would make everything else fall into place, they all did. Hopeless wanderer sequel.
1. one

**A/N: Hopeless wanderer sequel, can act as a stand alone – i'm sure you'll get the point of it after this chapter. Just so you know, I toyed around this for a while, but I loved writing HW so thought why not. It'll be different, I promise.**

* * *

 _Adoption day, July._

Life is a series of moments.

Moments that are short and so quick that you often struggle to catch them before they slip through your fingers and fall into the stock pile of memories, some get lost along the way.

This day. This moment. It feels so fresh, so vibrant and loud, that you realise you'll never be able to fully let I go. Arms wrap around your shoulders, pull you in tight enough to take your breath away.

This moment is one of the three most important moments in your life so far. You take in everything through glassy, tear filled eyes, and you hold on as tight as you can.

Memories of pain slip away seamlessly for a brief second. You are here, you are whole.

You are home.

You are Callie Adams-Foster.

* * *

 _You eat dinner like you do every night. Jude talks about Connor, about how much he'll miss him when he leaves and your heart hurts. Stef says it'll be okay, they'll be okay. You wonder how long they can wait for each other._

 _Brandon passes you a plate of mashed potatoes and you scoop them onto your plate, watching Stef laugh at Mariana's story about something that happened in second period. You smile._

 _The family chat loud about life and you admire how interested everyone seems to be._

 _The door knocks, and Brandon leaves the table._

" _Hey mom...the social worker is here. She's taking Callie away."_

 _._

You blink open your eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. It was a dream.

It's the day after the adoption and you wake up feeling different. It's not a good or a bad sort of different, it's just _different_. The sort of feeling that you can't quite put your finger on. You roll over and check your phone, but you're aware of how early it is beforehand due to the dead silence in the house. 5:04am. On a saturday.

You lay there for a while, thinking about everything, about how today is the first day you wake up an official part of this family. About how familiar this home has become. You smell the ghost of coffee that is bound to make it's way into your room in the next couple of hours, you think about how much you miss the dose of caffeine in the morning. About how grateful you are that you have parents who enforce rules for your well being. You feel different.

You scroll on your phone for an hour and a half before you hear the first door open and you know it'll be Stef, she's always the first one up. The footsteps make their way across the hallway and your door creaks. "Morning bug, want some breakfast?" You feel feel a familiarity in her whisper, in her presence. In her knowing that you'd be awake. You follow her down to the kitchen.

You have a lot of these mornings with stef, she makes both of you breakfast and you quietly read the paper or talk about school or work, sometimes she gives you a cup of coffee. It's a weigh day today, but the atmosphere is relaxed. You are comfortable knowing that Lena will do it once she's up, before everyone else wakes up. You're monitored more closely on weigh days, but you've had a stellar record recently. You've been happy recently. You've learned to want recovery.

"I'd like to go to the cemetery today," you mumble in between bites of your bagel. She looks up. "If that's okay?"

Stef nods."Jude?"

"Maybe just me?"

You know they can take him tomorrow. Although you feel selfish having days to yourself, sometimes you need moments with her in which you can be completely you.

"Okay, well do weigh In and I'll take you at eleven, we could go for lunch." You nod warily. "Unless..."

"No," you stop her. "Lunch sounds good."

She smiles.

.

You weigh in at one pound heavier than you did last week, but your hands don't shake quite the same as they used to when Lena reads the number out, maybe it means you're getting there. Maybe today's just a good day. It's a confusing battle, this one, in a sense that you never know what you're going to get. You could wake up ready for recovery, or you could wake up feeling terrible.

You're grateful that this is a good eating day, because it's a weird everything else day. Change can be a trigger. But surely not one you've been _wanting_?

Surely not.


	2. two

**A/N: Not sure If this will be a relapse sequel, or if it will take on a whole new life of it's own. But here you are anyway.**

* * *

You keep having the same dream. Every single night for over a week now, you dream that they take you away. Every single night you wake up in a cold sweat, you're not ready to leave.

You remind yourself that you've been adopted now, that they can't take you now.

But nothing has ever been stable before, nothing has been set in stone. It's often hard to trust anything when you've spent the bigger part of your life in a system that teaches you that you're nothing but a number. A statistic. A poor unfortunate little foster kid.

No. Not anymore.

You make your way down to the kitchen a little later today, everyone else is up and ready, and you note that you're extra tired and extra anxious today and that you should probably tell Stef or Lena that it's not a good day.

You normally decide on a breakfast before you go downstairs and so oatmeal is the only thing on your mind right now. Oatmeal with almond milk and a touch of peanut butter and a glass of water. You reach for the box of oatmeal on the top shelf and let out a frustrated sigh when you notice that it's completely empty.

"Do we have any more oatmeal?"

Stef shrugs and lena shakes her head. "I ate the last of it this morning, hun. Sorry."

You throw the box in the bin and work on trying to find a replacement.

The problem with recovery is that, on the bad days, it's almost impossible to see why you bother. The only thing you want is oatmeal, but since there's none left you'll need to find something similar but, sadly, something that _isn't_ what you planned. Structure is important, it's the one thing that keeps you going.

You slam the cupboard door shut and groan.

"I'm going for a shower."

You wonder if they call after you as you run up to the bathroom and close the door hard behind you. You're not supposed to skip meals, but days like this are just

they're _hard_.

You calm down once the hot water hits your body.

After you're dried and dressed and ready for the day, you make your way downstairs hoping that things will get better and they do, sort of, when you notice a new box of oatmeal sitting on the kitchen table.

You love these people.

Everyone is in the living room, or out the back, and this new level of trust is something you can't get used to. Being allowed to eat alone, being allowed to be left alone, is a new experience.

You try not to fuck it all up.

You only eat half the oatmeal that you normally do, but only because your stomach feels on edge and you think that it's okay because you still ate and you're still here and it's okay.

You join them in the living room and watch TV snuggled up to Stef.

You fall asleep.

.

 _You are sitting at the top of the stairs when you hear their muffled voices floating up from the living room._

" _Stef, honey, we can't keep doing this."_

" _I know, love. I know. But we can't just..."_

" _It's too much, this is too much. Watching her all the time like she's a baby is too much."_

" _But..."_

" _This is our chance, baby. If Robert has found a way to get her back, then let's not fight him. If she thinks it's his fault then she'll still love us, then we'll still see her. But we won't have to deal with..."_

" _But she's our daughter, Lena."_

" _No she's not, Stef. You know that just as much as I do. She hasn't been our daughter since the day she walked out of this house."_

" _So we're throwing her out?"_

" _It's our only choice."_

 _._

When you open your eyes, your breath catches in your throat. A tear drips down your cheek and lands on your lip.

"Are you okay?"

You blink away the thought of the dream and sit up, Stef looks concerned.

"Yeah," You lie. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you were shaking like a leaf, love. What's wrong?"

You shake your head and smile. "Nothing, honest."

If Stef doesn't believe you, she doesn't say anything. For that, you are grateful. Your stomach feels more unsettled than it did this morning and the thought of lunch, which is looming around the corner, makes you feel worse. You sigh and lean back into Stef, staring at the TV and not really watching it.

You love this family, you think as your eyes begin to close again, you really do.

* * *

"Cal."

You groan and turn your head away from the voice. "Hey, love. Wake up. It's almost four o'clock."

You open up your eyes a slither and notice you have a blanket over you, that you and Stef are the only ones in the living room now.

"You feeling okay, my love?"

You nod, only half awake, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hands. "Yeah. How long have I been asleep?"

Stef looks at the clock. "About two hours, you seem wiped," She says, reaching up and touching your forehead with the back of her hand. "maybe you're getting sick."

"No," You say. "I'm fine. Just exhausted. What's for lunch."

There are two sides to you, to anorexia. Two sides that relentlessly disagree with each other, that relentlessly disagree with you. They say that recovery is only effective if you _want_ it to be effective, like it's black and white. Like you can either choose to _be_ or _not_ to be anorexic. Like it's a choice at all. Like you would have ever chosen this path for yourself, like you looked in the mirror when you were a kid and thought _one day, I'm gonna hate myself._

It's not easy, recovery. Because you _want it_. You want it so so bad, and it's there right in front of you all the time, but it's not a tangible item that you can grab and keep, it slips through your fingers like water. In order to keep ahead of the game, you have to always make a conscious effort to understand how important your health is, how important your body is, your mind is, _you_ are.

But they never tell you that the voice that anorexia creates never actually leaves.

You have to want it, but it doesn't always work.

And, so, when Stef get's frustrated on your bad days, when you pick at your dinner and complain you're not hungry and she complains that you need to try harder, you feel bad. Because _of course_ you want it, you _need it_ just as much as you need them, but you always have to remind yourself, and the family too, that it's an uphill battle. It doesn't stop, it doesn't level up, it doesn't get much easier. So, on the days like today, you repeat a mantra in your head.

 _You want this. You want them. Feet on the ground, mind on the good. Recovery is possible. You are okay._

And sometimes it helps.

And when it doesnt

they do.


	3. three

**A/N: I promise that, when the show returns, I will find my muse again. I just don't feel like a write as good as I used to. Plus I work an awful lot. Sorry, and I promise I'll update my other stories as soon as possible. Enjoy, it's short. Things start happening in the next chap, I promise.**

Wednesdays are Robert days. He picks you up after school and takes you anywhere you and sophia want to go. Today, it's dinner and a movie at the house because you love the food he cooks and still try and avoid eating out as much as you can. As you sit in the car next to Robert and listen to sophia chat about school and friends, you wonder if he ever feels mad about what happened. You used to hate him, back when you didn't really understand what had happened between he and your mom, before you met his father. Before you realised that he'd do just about anything for you. Now, he's your father. Now, he understands that - while you'd never leave the family you have now for him, you do consider him to be a part of your life. You wish it hadn't taken you so long to get to this stage though.

You've come a long way, you realise as you listen to the back and forth between your father and sister, sometimes you feel like you're driving away from the old Callie. The alone Callie. Sometimes, you feel like you might miss her as you watch her fade further into the distance. You have a family now, two families now, a home now.

This is what it feels like to be okay.

"You've been awfully quiet, Cal. Everything good?"

You blink away thoughts and look up to him, nodding. "Yeah, just thinking."

"Care to enlighten us?"

You smile. "I'm just grateful."

So grateful.

.

Sofia goes to bed pretty early, leaving you and Robert sitting by the fire in the back yard just watching the embers of the flames silently. Moments like this are the ones you want to keep.

You never regret your decision. You never regret choosing the Adams Fosters. You never will. And you are sure by now that Robert understands that, you are sure that he knows how much they've given to you. He'd give you the same, you don't doubt that, but they are family - they are home.

"Do you ever resent me?"

Robert looks confused, he cocks his head to the side and gives you an odd look. "Why do you ask that?"

You sigh. "Do you ever feel like I made the wrong decision? Staying with them?"

He falls silent for a moment, and you wonder if maybe he's about to say yes, but then he shakes his head. "I used to feel that way. It was hard at first, you know? I didn't understand why you were turning your back on me - your blood, for a family that had only known you for such a short time."

He sighs, and you nod for him to continue.

"But then I realised that the best way to be a good father was to let you make decisions based on what would make you happy. And you are happy, with them. I see it in you every time I see you, I saw it in you when you got adopted. You'd been waiting for them and they'd been waiting on you just as long. Stef was so passionate about custody and i hated her for that…but now I have nothing for respect for her, for all of them. They were there when I couldn't be."

You nod.

"Do you?" He asks. "Resent me?"

"For what?"

"For not being there?"

You shake your head. "I know you would have been there if you could have been. I don't doubt that for a minute."

He smiles, you do too.

These moments, you cherish them.

.

Stef picks you up late, and you don't say much in the car. She looks at you occasionally, trying to figure out if anything is wrong - like she always does. And you look at her occasionally, eyes that tell her not to worry. You know that she will, you thank her for that.

You don't sleep much that night, although you aren't sure why.

You think about a lot and nothing at the same time.

You conclude that you are overwhelmed. Being adopted, having a family, having a birth father and an honorary father and two mothers and lots of siblings and a good home and nice things makes you feel overwhelmed because you never knew that you could have all of this, you feel as though you are miles in the air.

For a moment. A brief moment. You wonder when you will fall.

You wonder how big the crater would be once you hit the solid ground.

Is it all forever? Is it all set in stone?

Were you made for this?

For good things?

You give up and go down to the kitchen, you pour yourself a glass of water and watch ugly betty on the television and you wonder if Stef will wake up, too. Like she used to every time you were sad back when you were sick.

She doesn't.

You kind of need her.

Your heart feels heavy, your head feels light. You make the decision that this is one of those moments that you need them to be here, or at least one of them, and so you wander up to her room, shake her shoulder and wake her up.

"Whats up, love?"

You sigh. "I don't feel good."

She follows you out to the hall and places a hand on your forehead. "are you sick?"

You shrug. "Cal? C'mon, talk."

"I feel…I dunno…weird. Anxious."

Stef rubs your shoulder with her hand. "You wanna come into our bed?"

You shake your head. "No," you sigh. "No, I just need…can we just sit together for a while?"

You still hate being needy. The difference between now and then is that you know when you _have_ to be needy. Like tonight. If Stef wasn't here, you'd stay up all night thinking about things, you'd probably end up having an anxiety attack, god knows they never seem to fully go away. If you hadn't woken stef up, you'd have to sit alone, think alone. Sometimes being alone with your thoughts can be dangerous, and Stef knows that just as much as you do.

Sometimes you wonder if she'd prefer it if you didn't wake her up. You're getting older, you're not a kid, and yet you're the only one in the house that sometimes has to wake them up in the middle of the night just because you feel _sad_. Is it normal? To rely on your parents this much?

Sometimes you don't know what is normal, not when you didn't get to experience it for such a long period of time.

"I like this show."

You're sitting on the sofa watching kitchen nightmares and drinking hot chocolate and not thinking about anything and you feel a little calmer than you had before, but the anxiety is still there - little butterflies at the bottom of your stomach.

You sit in silence for a long time, sort of half awake and half falling asleep and it's comfortable, but you know that Stef wants you to talk to her, and as much as you don't really want to sometimes it helps.

"Stef?"

You notice that her eyes had been shut, but she blinks them open and looks at you, tired. "Yeah?"

"If…if I ever got bad again, if i ever got sick again. Would you be angry at me?"

Stef sits up, more alert and creases her eyebrows. "What do you mean, hon?"

"I mean," You take a deep breath. "I mean that most people I met in the hospital had been sick before, which means that they got better before. They talked about how the smallest things can set you off. About how you never seem to be able to get away from it. And I'm worried, I mean…what's to say that I'm any different?"

"Do you ever feel like you used to?"

You sigh. "Of course."

You sense that it's not the response she wants to hear. "I'm not saying that right now I want to be as bad as I was, I never _want_ to be like that again. But recovery doesn't make the voice go away. It just changes the way I listen. And sometimes, actually quite often, it's difficult to push it away. Sometimes I feel as though it'd be easier to stop trying so hard all the time. Recovery is exhausting, you know?"

"You'd tell me, though? If you felt as bad as before?"

"I'm not sure that I would." You admit. "I'm not sure it's that easy."

Stef sighs. "I just never want to see my baby that sad again."

You nod.

"You didn't answer my question?"

Stef looks up.

"Would you be mad?"

She nods. "Yeah. But not at you, my love. Never at you. not for that."

You fall asleep with your head in her lap twenty minutes later.


End file.
